


Pieces

by ruffleafewfeathers



Series: The Hitman and the Soldier [2]
Category: Sicario (2015), Sicario (Movies), Sicario: Day of the Soldado
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Pre-Sicario, and Alejandro's past, handjobs, language and violence, the boys trying to deal with their conflicting emotions, you know it's Sicario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 03:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruffleafewfeathers/pseuds/ruffleafewfeathers
Summary: Matt knows something is off right from the start. Something is different this time. He can tell from the way the other man is hunching in his doorway, how he carries himself, leaning slightly to one side, head tilted to the other. How he is looking past him, then down at Matt’s bare feet. It sends something tingling down his spine, the anticipation of something unknown. He mentally braces himself against it and motions for Alejandro to come in.





	Pieces

Matt knows something is off right from the start. Something is different this time. He can tell from the way the other man is hunching in his doorway, how he carries himself, leaning slightly to one side, head tilted to the other. How he is looking past him, then down at Matt’s bare feet. It sends something tingling down his spine, the anticipation of something unknown. He mentally braces himself against it and motions for Alejandro to come in.

 

Their last op had been pretty neat. Get in, make a lot of noise, clean two rooms full of narcos for the show, and get out again. Nearly fucking perfect. Except for that meth head who had managed to get a shot at Alejandro, hitting him square in the chest. His vest absorbed most of the shock, but the blow sent him to the ground hard. Matt had the fucker at gunpoint within a second, but before he even got to pull the trigger, the boy’s head jerked back, brain splattering against the wall. He seemed to freeze for a second, body suspended at an impossible angle, before he crashed into the concrete, gun clattering to the ground.

Matt took down his rifle and looked across to Alejandro lying on his back, pistol in both hands trained on where the boy had stood just a moment before. When it was clear the body on the ground wouldn’t move, Alejandro took one hand from the gun, dropping both arms over his head in an attempt to reduce the pressure on his chest and sucked in a wheezing breath. Matt knelt down at his side and grabbed his vest by the collar to push a hand inside, but it came back clean. No blood. Still, Alejandro clearly struggled to breathe.

“Rib’s cracked maybe.”

Matt muttered. Wouldn’t be the first. He grabbed the other man by the arm and pulled him upright. Alejandro gritted his teeth in agony.

“Come on, we need to get out of here.”

In hindsight, he should have paid more attention already back then, should have acknowledged the signs of Alejandro going quiet. And with quiet he didn’t mean the usual don’t-make-a-fuss-about-unnecessary-words Alejandro. He meant these times the man became so silent, it felt like he was sitting next to a ghost. As if Alejandro was retreating from that space and time his body occupied.

It wasn’t the first time he had taken a hit in the vest. Hell, he’d been hurt in so many ways that this was nothing more than a nuisance. God knew what was different this time.

Matt was sitting next to him, pressed into the back of the Tahoe together with a guy from Delta while they left Nogales behind. Alejandro didn’t make a sound, hiding behind his fucking shades. Just his hand betrayed him, gripping the collar of his vest to stop it from pressing against his ribs at every bump the Tahoe took.

“Get that checked when we’re back.”

Matt gave him a once-over.

Alejandro didn’t say anything.

Debriefing was a cakewalk. One man hit in the vest. No further casualties on their side. Everything went as smooth as can be. Alejandro went for a checkup and Matt didn’t see him for the rest of the evening. Didn’t go looking either. He knew better than to follow the man when he went ghost. Learned that the hard way.

He anticipated the knock at his door though. Couldn’t say that was a surprise.

 

Matt looks up from where his rifle is laid out on the table in parts, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wipes the oil off his hands with a cloth and drops his glasses on the table. Then he pads over to the door on bare feet.

Alejandro looks at him through hooded eyes for a moment, then lets his gaze slip away, leaning against the doorframe. Well, shit. Matt motions him inside with a nod of his head. He watches him while closing the door. A clean white button-down shirt and dark pants hugging his ass in all the right ways. No jacket. Alejandro always cleans up nicely. Matt smirks down at his well-worn Penn Quakers shirt that got so thin along the edges, he is sure it’s mostly held together by fucking nostalgia.

“You want a drink?”

Matt watches the other man stalk through his room from the door.

Alejandro nods, more like tilts his head up a bit in agreement, and Matt goes to plunder the minibar. There is some good Macallan and he finds two glasses in the cupboard above. He pours two fingers of amber single malt into each, then walks over to offer the other man his share. Alejandro glances up at the glass, not Matt, as he takes the drink from his hand.

They share their first swigs in silence, Matt eyeing his partner over the brink of his glass, the whisky rolling down the back of his tongue, thick and sweet. He considers drawing the other man away from whatever dark thoughts he might hold with easy banter but then decides for his favourite strategy instead. Stepping into Alejandro’s space, he brings his free hand up against his jaw, drawing full lips against his own. He doesn’t wait for an invitation, dragging his tongue against Alejandro’s without any finesse, and as always, arousal comes easy. Something hot settles in his belly, sending waves of pleasure rippling through his body in all directions. He moans softly into Alejandro’s mouth, flavours of cherry and toffee exploding on his tongue from the drink they share. Alejandro lets him. He doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t move against him, lets Matt kiss him hungrily. And Matt’s familiar with that passiveness. They’ve been doing this dance for a long time, soft knocks at hotel doors a part of Matt’s nights now, and Alejandro always relinquishes control easily when they are together. Matt silently wonders if that was just a charade.

He feels for the drink in Alejandro’s hand, clinking both of their glasses together in one hand while maneuvering him backwards against the wall. His other hand is busy carding through the short hair at the back of Alejandro’s neck, pressing their mouths together, dark stubble burning against his lips. He almost misses the shelf while trying to get rid of the glasses, swishing whisky over his hand.

“Fuck.”

Matt chuckles against Alejandro’s mouth and moves back to suck at the liquid coating his fingers. Alejandro tips his head back against the wall, eyes going dark, watching Matt intently. There’s a dirty grin on Matt’s face when he drags his tongue over his knuckles, biting down. Alejandro doesn’t move, just waits for him to finish his show.

The first thing he learned about Alejandro is that he has a hell of a poker face. Fucking lawyers. But Matt has worked so close to him for such a long time now that he can read his face well enough, decipher the smallest change in expression. And right now, Alejandro clearly is amused. And turned on, which adds to the smugness in Matt’s grin. But there is also something else in those eyes right now, something he can’t quite figure out. It’s part of what has changed today when he has been hit in the vest. Or maybe that was just the trigger. Matt never knew.

No matter how good he can read his body language and facial expressions, the slightest tilt of the head, change in stance, glint in those eyes, no matter how good he is at tracking the way Alejandro thinks up until the point where Matt actually knows what the other man is going to say, no matter how close he gets, he never gets to peer into the darker recesses of Alejandro’s mind. A glimpse maybe or two. But Alejandro never lets his guard down enough for that, not even when he comes to Matt’s room in the middle of the night. His body, yes, to an extent. He gives himself over to Matt in probably the most primal need. But his mind remains closed off. And it’s never more than a handjob. Just barely skin on skin. Quick and dirty. There was kissing involved right from the start, fervent and messy. But their encounters are short and Alejandro always leaves for his own room afterwards. Matt leaves it that way.

So the darker thoughts commanding Alejandro’s mind remain largely a mystery to him, other than the obvious. And he never pushes him. If you push too hard on Alejandro, he might push back into you. And that’s not a pleasant experience.

Matt prefers to keep it easy.

He sucks his thumb into his mouth, licking off the last remains of the whisky, before he releases it with a pop and licks slowly over his bottom lip, watching Alejandro’s gaze drop down. Then he presses his thumb against Alejandro’s mouth, wet skin glistening against those full lips. A tongue darts out, dragging over the pad of his thumb and Matt looks up, right into Alejandro’s eyes, hooded under heavy lids, head tipped back against the wall, lips slightly parted, and fuck, how he manages to look like he is the one in control here is beyond him. Hot lead in his stomach and between his legs, heart hammering in his chest, Matt licks his own lips, then swallows in an attempt to get a grip on this.

He loses spectacularly.

With a groan, he presses himself against Alejandro, both hands at the back of his head to draw the taller man in for a deep kiss. He’s essentially pinning him against the wall and well aware of the fact that the other man lets him do this. Alejandro’s hands come up to his hips, pulling him against him, and Matt presses his hard cock against his thigh, rocking into him. He lets his own hands travel down Alejandro’s chest, down, down between their bodies where he presses the heel of his hand against the firm outline of Alejandro’s cock while the other hand fumbles with the button of his pants. He pulls him out, closing his fist around him. His left hand wandering up again to push a thumb against Alejandro’s chin and Matt drags his lips over his throat to that sweet spot right behind his ear. He starts sucking there the same moment he presses his thumb over the wet tip of his cock. Alejandro groans quietly, a sound more felt than heard, a vibration under Matt’s tongue. He bites down hard.

Now that earns him a proper response. Hands grab tightly at his ass, pulling him in, and Alejandro moans. Matt smiles against his skin, keeping up the pace with a firm grip around his cock. With his free hand he opens the next button on Alejandro’s shirt—thank god for the man’s penchant for plunging necklines—and slides his mouth further down, sucking a bruise into the skin where neck and shoulder meet.

He feels Alejandro move under him, shifting his weight. Then his hand comes down to drape over Matt’s around his cock. Entangling their fingers, he grips down hard and starts stroking with relentless pace. Now that is a new one. Alejandro never takes charge when they meet like this. Not that Matt complains, thank you very much. Tonight, Alejandro is obviously seeking something else, so Matt just lets the other man guide him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against his throat and shoulder, lips tracing a faint scar over his collar bone that he is already familiar with. Not one of his. Meaning he had gotten that before Matt had found him.

Alejandro’s head comes down to rest against his shoulder, forehead pressed into the crook of his neck. His ragged breath ghosts hot over Matt’s sweaty skin and he enjoys the ambiguity of Alejandro guiding him and seeking comfort at the same time. Keeping his free hand wrapped around his neck, Matt cards his fingers through the sweat-soaked curls of hair there, sucking at the side of his neck, soaking in the tremble of the body pressed against his that tells him he is close.

A frustrated growl rips through the other man’s throat and Alejandro stops their hands, clutching down hard. Right after that, Matt feels him go soft in his fingers. Alejandro pulls his hand away and pushes against his hips, creating distance. Matt pulls back, tilting his head to look at his face.

“Hey.”

He refuses to let go of Alejandro’s neck, thumb sliding under his jaw to push, make him look up.

“Too much?”

There’s no embarrassment in Alejandro’s eyes when they meet his, just pent-up frustration, lines drawn tight around his eyes, and Matt reacts on instinct when he smooths his thumb over the deep line between Alejandro’s eyebrows, then bends forward to kiss him there, the touch so intimate he feels a tingle of excitement running up his spine.

“It’s okay.”

He mumbles against warm skin, pressing kisses against his brow and temple and cheek, the softness of his actions extremely unfamiliar. But if this is the night of new things, he might as well go all the way.

“It’s okay.”

He whispered against Alejandro’s lips, following his words with a kiss.

“Let me… let me try something.”

He tips their foreheads together to look into Alejandro’s eyes.

“Okay?”

There’s caution there, hesitation, but also something very, very pained. Alejandro tilts his head away, keeping their foreheads together, and looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

_What are you doing, Matt?_

and

_Stop the bullshit._

and

_You’re gonna get us killed._

Matt has had all these gazes directed at him more than once, usually tinted with blatant amusement, but he simply refuses to let Alejandro leave his room like this. He grabs his head with both hands, pulling him back so their noses are almost touching.

“Come on.”

He brushes his thumbs over sharp cheekbones.

“What you gotta lose?”

Drawling, voice heavy with the dare.

And when he sees the consent in his eyes, Matt moves in for a kiss. He lets it start slow, sensual, licking into Alejandro’s mouth with deep strokes, his head still cradled in his hands, letting him know he’s got him. Once he feels hands at his hips again, he starts pushing for more, increasing the heat in their kiss. He lets himself be guided by the way his own body reacts, heat pooling slowly in his groin again, spreading warmth through legs and arms and tingling fingertips.

He doesn’t know what this is about or if it has anything to do with the incident during the op at all. And he isn’t sure Alejandro would tell him if he asked. But there is a time for talking, as they say, and that isn’t tonight. Tonight he will take this man and pull him over the edge they have been flirting with for a pretty fucking long time now. He is well aware that they both have stepped over any line of professionalism already back when all that started. Matt had tried, god, he had, for a long time, grazing a very thin line. But then they had just tumbled over it spectacularly. And Matt had realized he liked kissing Alejandro way too much, denying the fact how the heated handjobs, harsh breaths and bruising kisses they shared actually pulled something from him, uncoiled him, like hard wire pulled too tight for a long time.

He should have been honest with himself. Their short encounters only served as friction, taking the edge off to last a little longer. He realizes that now while he is slowly bringing them back on track again, syncing their bodies to heartbeats and breaths and soft moans.

It has never been enough. Could have never been. He just wants way more than this.

He rocks into Alejandro, rubbing himself against his thigh, pressing his hip against Alejandro’s cock that is properly awake again. He still holds Alejandro’s head in his hands and he loves it, building the friction with his whole body pressed against the other man.

Alejandro lets him, again, hands ghosting over Matt’s back like he doesn’t dare to touch. Or doesn’t know how.

Matt bites down hard on Alejandro’s lower lip causing him to groan, sucking hard, then teasing with his tongue over the same spot.

“There we go.”

He mumbles against Alejandro’s lips, voice dropping low.

“Let me make you feel good.”

He grins like the fucking cat that ate the canary. Then he slides down along Alejandro’s body, keeping eye contact until his knees hit the ground. The last thing he sees are Alejandro’s dark eyes staring down at him, pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted, an angry red patch where Matt has almost broken the skin with his teeth.

Matt presses his face into the fabric of Alejandro’s shirt hanging loosely over his pants. He can feel the muscles corded there under his navel and pushes the shirt up, pressing his lips and nose against warm skin. The smell of just-freshly-showered and the sweat of a warm Tucson night engulf him, blending into something heady and sensual. It drives him crazy.

He nibbles his way down along a trail of dark hair, then brushes his cheek along the hard line of Alejandro’s cock. And just like that, he opens his mouth and pushes down, taking in as much as he possibly can the first time. He feels muscles tense under his hands at Alejandro’s hips, and not for the first time, he wonders if anyone has actually done this for him since his wife died. Whether he has been with anyone at all. Other than Matt.

He allows himself a moment to adjust to the feel of another man’s cock in his mouth, because it has actually been a while, then starts bobbing his head up and down, stroking along the hard length with his tongue. He pulls back to catch the first drops of precum and the realisation that he actually tastes Alejandro for the first time makes him hum.

He pushes back down, hollowing his cheeks, and swallows. With his eyes closed, he all but feels the slight tremble under his fingertips. Other than that, Alejandro doesn’t make a sound. His hands still ghost over Matt’s shoulders and the back of his head. Matt looks up, right into Alejandro’s eyes. There is a sense of disbelief there, something not entirely going with the situation, and Matt feels something snap inside him. God, he swears, he _is_ going to take this man over the edge tonight. He is going to take him down so hard, he’d forget his own fucking name.

He releases Alejandro’s cock with a loud pop and straightens back up, pressing his mouth against Alejandro’s in a sloppy kiss, letting him taste himself on Matt’s tongue. The thought alone has him painfully hard. Then he lets go of him.

“Get on the bed.”

Matt mutters against full lips, voice like gravel. He steps back and, with a lingering gaze on Alejandro’s dishevelled clothes, turns around to get the bottle of whisky. He decides against the glasses, just puts the bottle to his lips and takes a deep swig. The whisky burns down his throat while he listens to the soft rustle of clothes and footsteps behind his back.

When he turns back around, Alejandro stands by the bed, looking down at it. Pants open, shirt unbuttoned almost completely, tousled hair. Anybody else would probably feel a little self-conscious in that situation. Alejandro. He just looks thoughtful.

When Matt approaches him, he turns his gaze to the bottle of whisky in Matt’s hand, then up to his eyes.

“What about me?”

Matt steps right into his space and hooks a finger into a belt loop of Alejandro’s pants, pulling him close, then pushes his thumb against the dark red patch where he had bitten Alejandro’s lip. Matt grins, then takes another swig of the bottle before placing it on the ground by the foot of the bed. He swallows and presses his mouth against Alejandro’s where his thumb has been, wondering if there was still enough left on his lips to burn against the bruised skin. His tongue pushes against Alejandro’s, letting him taste the flavour.

He just now realises that these were the first words Alejandro has actually spoken since he had stepped into his room. But if anything, that only fuels his intention to have the man beg by the end of the night.

He licks over that bruise on Alejandro’s lip and pulls back, looking at it with proud satisfaction. Alejandro’s tongue darts out, testing the raw skin, and fuck if there isn’t something dark in his eyes. Something dangerous.

But Matt eats dangerous for breakfast.

He unbuttons the rest of Alejandro’s shirt, pushing it over his shoulders to let it fall to the floor. He has seen him naked before, during training, shower, sharing rooms, getting ready for the next op, but never when they met like this, their encounters way too short-lived and harsh for that.

Matt puts a hand on Alejandro’s chest, mapping out the scars along his shoulder and collarbone, travelling down over faint imprints painting sun-kissed skin. He’s never touched him like this before. Softly. Had never taken time to look at him properly, at that map of pain and rage on his torso, too concerned about his own feelings and where they might lead him. Too afraid he might cause Alejandro to end all this. Part of him wants to stay like this forever, worshipping every mark on this body and the story behind it.

There is a yellowish-black angry bruise over his ribs where he had been hit in the vest earlier, about the size of his hand. Hurts like a son of a bitch, Matt knows, but there are no bandages, so no broken ribs.

Matt presses the heel of his hand over the round shape where a 9 mm had hit him in the side, knowing there was no exit wound on the back. That is one of his. After he had found him.

He smooths his thumb over the red burn mark sitting right above, formed like a check mark, and realises how ridiculous it is to even think about Alejandro being together with anyone since his wife. Because no one has seen him like Matt has in hotel rooms and military camps, the certainty of this a sudden heavy weight. He looks up. Alejandro’s eyes have followed the movement of Matt’s hand over his body, gaze now coming up when Matt’s does. Alejandro watches him, standing there in disconcerting silence, half-naked, only for him to see.

And he wonders whether this body has been touched softly at all during the past years.

Matt keeps their eyes locked, letting his hand travel low over the contour of Alejandro’s hip down to where his thigh meets his groin, to that sweet spot where he can feel Alejandro’s pulse under his thumb. He ignores the cock twitching against his wrist and moves forward, pushing the other man back to the point where he needs to sink down onto the bed. Alejandro catches himself with his hands, tensing slightly as bruised skin and swollen flesh stretch over his ribs.

Matt follows him down, never taking his eyes off him. He tugs Alejandro’s pants down the rest of the way, making short work of shoes and socks and everything in the way to leave them in a piled heap on the floor. While Alejandro scoots back, now fully naked, Matt pulls his shirt over his head and throws it into a corner. He considers doing the same with his pants, but then decides against it, going for the bottle of whisky instead. He takes a swig, looking down at the man between his thighs. Alejandro watches him like it isn’t him lying on his back, naked and aroused. Like he is just a bystander.

Matt denies him the bottle again, taking another swig, but keeps some of the whisky in his mouth. He puts the bottle back, then gets down on hands and knees and presses his mouth to Alejandro’s. Their tongues mix along with the alcohol in his mouth and Matt moans. God, he could kiss him the whole day, every day.

Alejandro grabs his waist and his hips come up, seeking friction. Matt’s own cock is straining against the fabric of his pants. And fuck, he just wants Alejandro’s hands all over him, but he is adamant about going through with his plan. The whisky makes him light-headed, the thought of having this man under him with bruised lips, bruised ribs and a swollen cock arouses him to no end. He moans into Alejandro’s mouth, then takes his wrists with both hands and pushes his arms up above his head. He pulls back, looking down into Alejandro’s eyes.

“Keep them up.”

Alejandro obeys silently, shifting a little to relief the tension that position puts on his ribs. Matt gets low, down to work, no further prelude. He bites into Alejandro’s neck and shoulder, sucking bruises into skin that smells like warm nights, low music and the godfucking ocean. He isn’t soft. Doesn’t intend to be. He knows Alejandro doesn’t want careful right now.

He takes his time. Fighting the relentless urge to press himself against the other man, he denies him any contact except for Matt’s mouth on his body and where their legs connect on the bed. He takes his time, licking long hot stripes down his throat, sucking on skin that is already forming bruises, working him to the point he wants.

And slowly, very slowly, like he is massaging the tension out of his body, something in Alejandro shifts. His breath becomes deeper, then uneven, then ragged, lips constantly parted. Somewhere along the way his eyes have closed. He starts to shift under Matt’s mouth, reacting to the way Matt is playing him.

Matt takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, then sucking hard. Alejandro hisses in response. Matt looks up to see his hands curled into the sheets above his head, then he moves down, working lips and tongue and teeth over Alejandro’s chest, over scars and marks, omitting where he had been hit today, down the soft dip of his belly, trailing along the line of his hips down into dark hair. And then he stops.

He moves back up again, feels a frustrated growl ripple through Alejandro’s chest and catches his bucking hips in his hands before they can connect with Matt’s groin.

There is a pattern of dark patches along Alejandro’s neck and shoulder where Matt has sucked them into his skin, and the knowledge he will wear those marks the next day under his shirt for no one else to see makes Matt groan into the side of Alejandro’s neck.

“I’m going to make you feel so good tonight.”

Matt licks at the sweat gathering on the skin there. He feels Alejandro’s shoulders twitch, but his arms stay above his head. Matt’s voice drops down low.

“And tomorrow, you won’t be able to think about anything else but my mouth on you. Will keep you on edge the whole fucking day. Make you hard against your pants. God, I’d like to watch you touch yourself.”

Alejandro moans, that sweet, sweet sound Matt has been waiting for, and he moves down again. Settling between Alejandro’s legs, he drapes his right arm over the other man’s hips, gripping his thigh with the other hand.

Then he takes him deep.

And is immediately rewarded when Alejandro bucks up into his mouth, the little space he has, being pinned down like this. Matt takes him as deep as he can. Then he pulls back up all the way, keeping the tip of his cock barely between his lips. There he waits, counting down his heartbeat and Alejandro’s pulse under his fingertips, then presses his tongue against the slit and goes down again, but slowly, keeping up the pressure with his lips and tongue while taking him all the way in to the root. He swallows, hollows his cheeks and pulls back up, starting anew. Again and again. Never once changing his rhythm.

When he goes down for the third time, a raw drawn-out moan tumbles from Alejandro’s lips and Matt feels satisfaction uncurl in his stomach like a warm, fuzzy little thing. He’ll take him apart tonight. He’ll guide him through this, strip all that armour away piece by piece, make him fall apart in his arms. And then he’ll catch him, hold him. Be there for him. Because whatever this is between them, there is _something_. This has slipped past comradery and a post-mission adrenaline-fueled handjob somewhere way back. And they both just seem to stubbornly pretend they didn’t see that coming.

Butt wherever this will lead them, Matt is only certain about one thing. This is way beyond his control. He is so fucked up and deep in this, he couldn’t find his way back even if he wanted.

And in all honesty, he doesn’t.

All he wants is to keep this man in his bed tonight and make sweet love to him, because he is sure no one has for a very long time.

Matt has lost count on how many times he has gone down already, time measured only by the way his lips burn from the friction, how his neck, knees and elbows are getting numb, by the way his back and shoulders protest. He tunes everything out, all part of the background noise.

Every time he goes down now, he is drawing deep moans from Alejandro. He can feel his thighs trembling, his abs contracting under his hands.

Again and again he goes down.

Until the other man is nothing but a sweating, trembling mass under him.

Again and again.

He keeps up the slow, hot friction and is amazed by the amount of discipline Alejandro displays even like this. His hands are still above his head, tightly fisting the bedsheets. He has stopped straining against Matt’s weight on his hips and thighs, only bucking up when he can’t control it, like he has accepted what is happening to him, relinquishing control to the man above him. The purest show of trust Matt can imagine.

Again and again he takes him to the edge, feels all the hard muscles contract under him, breath hitching in Alejandro’s throat. And every time he stops. Waits. Listens to Alejandro’s ragged breath while he comes down from a peak he isn’t allowed to climb. Then he starts again.

Satisfaction engulfs him, for reducing Alejandro to this, just feeling, no thought. Pure, primal need. For stripping away all the things that haunt him, even if just for this moment, in this room.

Again and again he denies him.

Alejandro is incoherent by now, words tumbling from his lips, neither English nor Spanish, or both. There is no sense in where a word ends and a moan begins. His voice is falling through ranges of emotions, from pleading to begging to whispers to tears. Everything is sweaty under Matt’s palms, his mouth making obscene sloppy sounds around Alejandro’s cock. His lips are so swollen and numb he isn’t sure where they even end. He’s painfully hard, his own cock straining and leaking against his pants.

Again and again.

“Matt, please…”

It starts as a whisper and ends in a moan. The sound is coming from somewhere deep down, raw and completely unrestrained, loud and drawn-out.

Matts groans around Alejandro’s cock and pulls back, getting on his knees—and groans again as his back protests loudly. He laps at the precum rolling down the tip of Alejandro’s swollen cock and looks up at the other man.

Alejandro’s head is tipped back, exposing his throat, eyes closed. His hands are pushing against the headboard. He’s panting heavily through parted lips, waiting for Matt to go down on him again, and fuck if that isn’t the most beautiful thing he has seen in ages.

He takes the swollen, leaking cock between his lips again and goes down, but this time he changes his angle and speeds up. Alejandro shudders. Matt watches his hands flail, nails scraping against painted wood. He’s relentless now, setting a speed that has Alejandro buck under him. And finally, he loses it. His hands come down to grab Matt’s head, burying his fists in his hair while Matt takes him over the edge.

When he comes, it’s silent. As if he has already spent all sounds in the drawn-out moments before. Matt hears his breath hitch in his throat, then nothing, but his hips buck up so hard, he almost lifts himself off the bed. Matt pushes him down again, using all his weight to press the considerably broader man into the mattress. When he feels streaks of hot cum against the back of his throat, he sucks hard, pressing his lips together, and swallows, hell-bent on riding him through this.

A hand grips his shoulder tightly, dragging blunt nails across his skin. The other twists in his hair so hard it hurts. Matt doesn’t stop. He doesn’t go easier. The body under his hands is taut like a chord.

A broken cry wrenches itself from somewhere deep down in Alejandro’s chest, stopped suddenly by a sound, half sob, half moan, pain and pleasure and agony all tangled up in one. And Matt lets go.

Alejandro’s body goes slack under him, all but melting into the mattress, hands falling limply to his sides. Matt carefully takes his softening cock in hand to lick off the last stray drops before pressing a kiss to the inside of Alejandro’s thigh. He slowly crawls up his body, leaving soft kisses all over his skin. Then he looks at him.

Alejandro opens his eyes when Matt stops moving above him. There’s a small frown between his brows, like he tries to figure something out, but his features are relaxed and Matt can see a deep tiredness there. While they look at each other, Alejandro draws in a deep breath, the kind that just comes over you and you can’t stop. Then he lifts his arms above his head, eyes never leaving Matt’s.

_Again. Giving up. I’m yours._ Matt isn’t sure. Isn’t sure he is even meant to decipher it. They just stare at each other, pondering what they have given to the other tonight.

After what seems like an eternity, Alejandro licks his lips, a hand coming up to touch Matt’s mouth, stroking over red, swollen lips. When his hand travels lower, Matt catches it, entangling their fingers. He shakes his head no at Alejandro’s cocked eyebrows, _This isn’t about me_ , then dips his head low and kisses him. The slow, lazy drag of lips and tongues that Alejandro gives back leaves a flutter in Matt’s belly and a warm ache in his chest, almost drowning out the hot press of his cock against his pants that is insistently begging him to sink down, sink into this man, grab his hair and pull his head back to suck at his neck while he pushes his hips into him.

“Go to sleep, you look like shit.”

He mumbled against Alejandro’s mouth, pushing his hand up above his head next to the other.

He pulls back and never stops watching Alejandro’s face while he gets back on his heels and up from the bed. He stands between Alejandro’s bare feet dangling over the edge, between their discarded clothes, and feels his own face soften while he looks down at the other man who is lying motionless and utterly spent on his dishevelled bed, the image of someone who doesn’t intend to move so much as a finger for the next hours. But his gaze is locked with Matt’s.

And Matt feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He snorts, shaking his head.

“Sleep.”

Matt turns around. He grabs a pair of shorts on his way to the bathroom and turns off the lights behind him before stepping inside.

While he gets rid of his tacky pants, Matt catches a glance at himself in the mirror. Seeing something dark on his left shoulder, he twists to get a better look. There’s a scratch mark there, bloody, but already starting to heal. He feels the slow burn now that he’s slowly coming down from his own high. Just fair, he figures, for the bruises he has left on Alejandro.

He steps into the shower and turns the water on to scalding hot, lets it soak him before taking himself in hand. He’s still hard, feels his orgasm approaching fast, and he’s way too exhausted to apply any form of finesse here. Matt feels like he has spent the day working out, but he knows it’s more mental than anything.

One hand on his cock and the other against the wall, he thinks about that step they have taken today. He has. A step that hasn’t been planned. Nothing about this has been. Shit, more than twenty years’ worth of a clean record, never got involved with anyone on any team he has led or been part of, and here he is, having sex with one of his own goddamn operatives.

Fuck.

He grunts and comes hard, spilling into the hot stream running down his body.

Good fucking god.

He waits for his body to come down again, then takes a deep breath, in and out, and tips his head against the tiles.

He has no idea where this will lead them from here. The professional implications, yes, he is more than sure about those. No one can know. No one. Because if anyone realises he’s fucking his agent? That would be it. For him. For Alejandro. And he can’t do that. Can’t do that to him. That’s what he tells himself. This is a way for Alejandro to stay on his path, a safer way. Matt isn’t sure what would happen to Alejandro, if he lost this.

Matt isn’t sure what would happen to _him_ , if he lost Alejandro.

Through all these years he has become a valuable asset, a skilled operative, a partner he can trust, and finally? A friend. Yes. Has been for a long time. The words just sits there, like it doesn’t really fit, because their friendship has evolved around the situations they had been in, built on trust that is essential in their line of work, interrupted by long periods of being separated, marred by Alejandro’s past and ultimate driving force. He just doesn’t think about him like one would think about a friend who comes over for barbecue.

And now?

The word _lover_ echoes in his head and he tastes it on his tongue without saying it out loud.

God, no one can know about this.

Matt draws in a breath and turns off the water. While he steps outside and towels himself off, he entertains the thought of himself having qualms about a blowjob when he has already jerked him off multiple times. Not that the first time couldn’t have been enough to have very serious consequences for both of them. Oh, but now you had your mouth on him, Matt, well that’s different then!

He puts on the shorts and slicks back his damp hair, trying to tell himself that this _is_ different, that everything else, as wrong as it has been from a professional standpoint, has been a spur-in-the moment, raw, needy kneejerk reaction. But this, this now has emotions involved. And that makes everything so much more difficult.

It isn’t the difference between a handjob and a blowjob. It is the difference between fucking and making sweet love to each other.

Matt scrapes his hand over his face, giving himself a last hard look in the mirror.

_You’re such a bad liar. Go on telling yourself this shit._

 

Alejandro is still in his bed when he steps outside and maybe that surprises him a little. The light in the kitchen is still on and illuminates his sleeping form, rolled to one side and tangled in his bedsheets. The thought and sight are both arousing and heartwarming.

Alejandro’s breath is even when Matt steps to the bed and watches him, the slow, deep rise of his chest, relaxed features, hands curled into the sheets. He wonders whether he’ll wake up to Alejandro’s nightmares tonight, and for a brief moment he thinks about lying down on the bed next to him, wrapping himself around him and just going to sleep like this.

But he’s already made up his mind, and that implies that he still isn’t sure Alejandro would appreciate this. That this might push him too far. So he grabs a pillow and a spare blanket from the closet and settles down on the couch.

Isn’t the first time anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So here I am, talking about how Alejandro would be the dominant one and Matt would just give up control, and then this happened. I don't even know how. But these two ruined me.
> 
> Also, I'm not a native speaker, so if anything sounds weird to your ears, that's probably me.


End file.
